


Tout cela ne vaut pas le poison qui découle/De tes yeux, de tes yeux bleus

by alexiel_neesan



Category: DCU
Genre: M/M, Wordcount: 100-500
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-31
Updated: 2011-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-22 01:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/232082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexiel_neesan/pseuds/alexiel_neesan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Where Jason Todd stayed in the Gotham by Gaslight 'verse and met Tim Drake. There are bowler hats and kisses.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Tout cela ne vaut pas le poison qui découle/De tes yeux, de tes yeux bleus

**Author's Note:**

> Title adapted from Charles Baudelaire's Le Poison.

Timothy thought Jason was a rather peculiar sort of fellow, more so than how peculiar one had to be to be haunting the roofs of Gotham and pursuing justice on his own, following the example of The Bat; but Timothy didn't really had much room to talk here, seeing as he had taken an interest in following the dark knight's adventure in a much more proactive manner than sanity would dictate. Jason was peculiar in his way of talking, in his way of acting, in his gestures and his smirks and his preferred sort of wardrobe. He was peculiar in the jarring changes in his behavior, in the way he was talking to The Bat, in the way he was talking of other worlds and wonders beyond what Gotham and even the world could offer.

"-eally Tim, I swear that's what happened. I wish it had been a collective hallucination - wonder what it'd say about our subconscious, but no-one's sane in this line of work anyway," and Jason offered him a small smile, "not that you'd know Mister Drake," twirled the bowler hat with one finger before sending it back to the round of objects he was juggling with, "- but in the end the good guys won, and that's all everyone knew. Thank the fucking multiverse I found alcohol after that-," and he kept going, up and down Tim's small and cluttered bedroom, half naked and barefoot, scars smoothed out by the lights, new injuries mapping Gotham on his skin.

Timothy kept notes, a fast scratch scratch scratch of fantastic adventures and wonders unknown to Man, black ink on smooth paper kept in hidden desk drawers. Jason had asked him if he was going to publish it; and Timothy had indeed been thinking of a novel, maybe a serial in the Gotham Times when they had put this announce for a writer two months ago, but. But he wanted to keep that to himself, wanted to keep Jason and his particularities and his smile and his kisses and the burns in his heart for himself.

Jason stopped juggling -the hat landed on a chair, the knives embedded themselves in the door, the brass figurine was put back on the dresser, the goggles on the back of chair. He then crawled on the bed on all fours, up and up to where Timothy was sitting, writing with a book in his lap for a table. Timothy suddenly felt very, very naked under the thin sheet.

"I think that's quite enough speaking for one day, don't you agree Mister Drake?"

It was quite enough indeed.

Timothy thought that he rather liked Jason's peculiarities.

/end.


End file.
